P   S 

3521 

E29 

M67 

1915 

MAIN 


:  ,:); 


SIGHS 


eg 
CNJ 

uo 


CHARLES 

HOWARD 
KEG LEY 


O 


GIFT  OF 


^{0^1      L 


.f  7 


/  /  <//2d 
. 


Copyright  1915  by 

HOWARD  C.  KEGLEY 

All  Righto  Reserved 


THE   PROGRESS,    PRINTERS   AND   BOOKBINDERS,    POMONA,    CAU. 


DEDICATED  TO  MY  WIFE 

PHOEBE  EMERSON  KEGLEY 

AND  MY  FATHER 

JOHN  JENNINGS  KEGLEY 


W! 


MOTHER  OF  THE  TENEMENT        M ^  ^ 

RN  by  long  hours  of  toil  and  child-care,    u  ^  (  rl&  / 
She  lay,  asleep.  Her  trouble-furrowed  brow 
At  last  was  calm.     No  trace  of  woe  was  there ; 


From  restlessness  she'd  freed  herself,  somehow.      /[A  Aj  f\l 

The  intonation  made  by  shunted  cars  /    I/*'' v 

At  elevated  switches,  shook  the  walls. 

The  ribald  songs  of  men  at  rowdy  bars 

"Were  echoed  and  re-echoed  through  the  halls. 

The  noisy  clang  of  the  police  patrol, 

The  hoarse  horn  hoots  of  spectral  harbor  boats, 

Did  not  disturb  the  peace  that  held  her  soul. 

Deaf-eared  was  she  to  all  discordant  notes. 

The  shrill  voice  of  the  midnight  paper  boy, 

The  church  clock,  striking  twelve,  in  vibrant  dome, 

Met  failure  if  their  wish  was  to  annoy 

The  strength-spent  sleeper  in  her  humble  home. 

Quite  undisturbed  she  slumbered  on  and  on; 

The  night  grew  old,  the  noises  did  not  die; 

Amid  the  clangor  of  approaching  dawn 

An  infant  breathed  a  faint,  but  troubled  sigh. 

Whereat  the  woman  rose  and  softly  crept 

Across  the  room.     There,  in  the  gloom,  unseen, 

She  lingered  where  her  dimpled  baby  slept, 

To  know  just  what  that  little  sigh  could  mean! 

3 


344051 


:-JUST  WHEN— 

NOW 'DAYS  when   some   " pinch  hitter "   knocks 
the  ball 
Far  into  yonder  field  outside  the  park, 
And  loses  it  so  thoroughly  that  all 
The  "pig  tail"  boys  can't  find  it  before  dark, 
My  thoughts  return  to  dreams  of  "clean-up"  men — 
To  when,  at  school,  we  boys  played  One  Old  Cat. 
Each  recess,  teacher  rang  the  bell  just  when 
I'd  caught  three  strikes  and  earned  my  turn  at  bat. 

Throughout  the  school's  long,  tedious  study  hours 
I  conned  my  books  with  heavy,  tired  eyes, 
Unmindful  of  sweet  woodland's  leafy  bowers, 
Of  rippling  rivulets  and  turquoise  skies. 
I  laid  aside  my  books  with  hopes  that  when 
Recess  came  I  would  star  at  One  Old  Cat, 
But  always,  teacher  rang  the  bell  just  when 
I'd  caught  three  strikes  and  earned  a  turn  at  bat. 

Oh,  boys,  who  Home-Run  Bakers  fain  would  be, 

And  you  who'd  be  a  Wagner  or  a  Cobb — 

If  you  now  know  the  thing  which  saddened  me 

In  boyhood,  come  and  lean  on  me  to  sob. 

Ah,  how  I  sympathize  with  little  men 

Who,  when  at  school,  go  in  for  One  Old  Cat! 

For  I  know  the  teacher  rings  the  bell  just  when 

They've  caught  three  strikes  and  earned  a  turn  at  bat! 


FARM  ENGINEERING 

BY  some  dura  fool  scheme  of  tilin' 
John  has  dreaned  the  pesky  slough 
In  the  medder.    Now  he's  spilin' 
Fer  some  other  trick  tu  do. 
Drat  his  picter!     Him'n  Lizzie 
Al'ays  has  their  elbows  bent. 
All  last  winter  John  was  busy 
Makin'  fence  posts  of  se-ment. 

Slack  times,  Lizzie  she's  a-helpin' 
John  a  right  smart  now  and  then, 
Spec'ly  if  the  kids  ain't  yelpin' 
But  when  they  need  tendin',  then 
John's  gas  en-jin  does  the  washin' 
An'  dinged  if  the  thing  don't  churn, 
Way  John  farms  is  sure  a  caution; 
Wy  them  folks  has  gas  to  burn! 

John  has  got  a  patent  dingus 
Tu  divide  the  milk  and  cream, 
An'  he's  built  a  konkreet  thingus 
Filled  with  some  durn  fodder  scheme 
Fer  tu  feed  the  dratted  cattle 
Tu  increase  their  milk  supply. 
He  says  half  the  farmin'  battle 
Is  the  what,  the  when  and  why. 


Has  a  rig  for  strainin'  honey; 
Railroad  en-jins  hitched  tu  plows, 
Just  got  through  a-spendin'  money 
Fer  machines  to  suck  the  cows. 
Bought  an  auto,  Liz  is  steerin' — 
Speck  she'll  run  it  in  a  ditch, 
But  they're  both  farm  engineerm' 
An'  I  guess  they're  gettin'  rich! 


ANYHOW 

VERBENA  SMAY  and  Buddie  Snooks 
Became  betrothed  one  summer  day, 
They  both  had  read  in  recent  books 

About  the  new  eugenic  way 
Of  marrying,  and  so  they  thought 

That  ere  they  became  groom  and  bride, 
In  justice  to  the  world  they  ought 
To  stand  tests  and  be  certified. 

Bud  Snooks  was  broad  across  the  back; 

His  lungs  were  strong,  his  breath  was  sweet ; 
But  when  the  doctor  watched  his  track 

He  turned  him  down  on  flattened  feet. 
Verbena  went  before  the  board 

Of  health  and,  'tis  the  gospel  truth, 
Too  low  to  be  a  bride,  she  scored, 

For  she  had  but  one  wisdom  tooth. 

Verbena  squalled  at  home  all  day; 

Bud's  chin  hung  down  upon  his  chest; 
The  neighbors  all  came  in  to  say 

That  what  transpired  was  for  the  best. 
It  didn't  turn  out  as  we  hoped, 

But  then  all  hands  are  happy  now, 
Because  that  night  the  pair  eloped 

And  had  their  wedding,  anyhow! 


THE  HAPPY  CHAIR 

BY  them,  'tis  called  the  Happy  Chair. 
For  two,  there's  room,  with  space  to  spare. 
Deep  in  its  leathered  depths,  enshrined, 
Is  all  that  they  may  hope  to  find 
This  side  of  Heaven — faith  renewed, 
Life  from  a  saner  angle  viewed, 
Peace  for  the  sorely-troubled  heart, 
Strength  to  the  better  play  their  part. 

Deep  in  the  depths  of  Happy  Chair 
They  often  sink,  a  grief  to  share, 
With  purpose  earnest  and  sincere, 
Exchanging  kiss  or  drying  tear. 
Heart  throbs  to  tune  the  other  heart, 
And  makes  their  love  a  thing  apart 
From  all  else;  undefiled,  complete; 
While  paths  grow  softer  to  their  feet. 

Strong  as  the  law  of  any  king, 
Their  chair-shrine  stands  for  just  one  thing — 
Calm  state  of  mind,  to  silence  fear 
Whene'er  black  clouds  of  doubt  appear. 
Each  sign  of  discord  takes  them  to 
The  Happy  Chair,  where  they  renew, 
Soft-voiced,  the  love  which,  they  agree, 
Has  always  been,  and  e'er  shall  be. 

8 


IF  THE  FARMER  DOES  NOT  PROSPER 

WHENE'ER  the  farmer  goes  to  town  to  sell  a 
load  of  oats, 
Or  market    sixteen    bags  of  beans,  or  ship  a 

bunch  of  shoats, 
The  business  men  along  the  street  are  sure  to  treat 

him  well. 
They  ask  him  what  he  sold,  and  how  much  more  he 

has  to  sell; 
They  find  out  how  much  seed  it  took  to  sow  a  certain 

field, 
And  they  inquire  about  the    prospects  for  a  bumper 

yield. 
They're    always    happy    when    the    farmer's    raising 

thrifty  flocks, 

For  if  he  does  not  prosper  business  soon  goes  on  the 
rocks. 

Whene'er  the  weather  man  says  that  there'll  be  no 

frost  at  night 
The   business  men  along  the    street  all  chuckle    with 

delight, 
Because  they  know  that  ears  of  corn  increase  in  size 

and  weight 
Each    time    the    weather  man  reports  that  Old  Jack 

Frost  is  late. 
The   business   men   along   the   street   are   glad   when 

pumpkins  thrive 


Down  on  the  farm,  for   pumpkins    keep  the  canning 

plant  alive. 
At  times  when  farmers  prosper  business  men  can  sell 

their  stocks, 
But  when  the  crops  fail  business  mighty  soon  goes  on 

the  rocks. 

The  farmer  can't  get  rich  too  quick  to  suit  the  city 

folk. 
Whene'er  the  farmer  sells  his  steers  he  buys  his  wife 

a  cloak, 
And  if  he  gets  a  good  price  for  his  corn  and  oats  and 

hay 
He   buys    a   railroad   ticket   and    goes    out   west    to 

stay 
All    winter,    and  a  portion  of     the    money    then    is 

paid 
To  section  men  for  laying  track  and  building  railroad 

grade. 
The  section  men,  of  course,  then  go  down-town  and 

buy  some  socks, 
But  if  the  farmer  doesn't   prosper   business  hits  the 

rocks. 


10 


RED  POP  OR  RYE? 

HE  blew  into  Roundup  with  spats 
On,  and  one  of  those  rah,  rah,  rah !  hats ; 
He  wore  a  bow  tie, 
Had  a  glass  in  his  eye; 
And  a  b'iled  shirt  covered  his  slats. 
The  boys  saw  him  coming  that  day, 
And  Candy  Jones  shouted:     " Hooray! 
We'll  now  have  some  fun 
There's  a  son-of-a-gun 
Of  a  tenderfoot  headed  this  way!" 

The  stranger,  of  course,  had  to  stop, 

For  a  drink  at  McKee's  liquor  shop, 

And  when  Billy  McKee 

Said:     "What  11  it  be?" 

The  answer  was:     "Red  sody  pop!" 

That  started  things,  right  then  and  there. 

Candy  Jones  vaulted  out  of  his  chair, 

And  said:     "No,  me  b'y; 

While  you're  here,  gargle  rye; 

You  farmer  with  lard  on  your  hair!" 

The  stranger  was  pale-faced  and  slight; 

He  wore  no  blue  hardware  in  sight. 

It  was  quite  plain  to  me, 

And  to  Billy  McKee, 

That  he  wasn't  in  for  a  fight. 

11 


Candy  Jones  was  so  sure  he  had  found 

Some  one  he  could  bully  around, 

That  he  backed  up  his  bluff 

With  a  gun  big  enough 

To  bore  big  post-holes  in  the  ground. 

On  the  bar  set  the  pop  and  the  booze ; 

Which  one  would  the  tenderfoot  choose* 

Candy  upset  the  pop, 

And  shouted:     "You  wop; 

Down  that  rye!   Don't  you  dare  to  refuse!" 

From  somewhere  the  stranger  then  drew 

A  Mauser  not  pleasant  to  view, 

And,  Jones  being  off  guard, 

He  murmured:  "Now,  pard, 

I'll  set  up  the  sody  to  you!" 

After  Jones  downed  the  sody,  he  swore, 

And  ducked  through  the  thirst-parlor  door. 

As  he  bought  a  cigar 

And  a  drink  at  the  bar, 

The  tenderfoot  spat  on  the  floor. 

Walking  out,  with  a  smile  on  his  face, 

That  galoot  left  his  gun  in  the  place. 

Quoth  McKee  then:     "Aw,  hell!" 

For  there  wasn't  a  shell 

In  the  gun.     'Twas  as  empty  as  space.1 

12 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  SLEEPER 


N 


OW  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep. 

There  is  a  fellow  counting  sheep 
In  a  berth  across  the  aisle. 
I  hear  him  every  little  while. 


I'm  too  long-  for  a  sleeper  berth, 

I  really  don't  know  where  on  earth 

I'm  ever  going  to  put  my  feet, 

For  they  won't  stay  beneath  the  sheet. 

The  sheet  seems  only  napkin-size, 
And  as  I  lay  here,  angle-wise, 
My  legs  stick  out  a  yard.    My  toes 
Are  numb,  I  guess  they're  nearly  froze. 

I  wonder  why  we  stopped  just  now? 
Perhaps  we  ran  across  a  cow. 
I  hope  the  girl  in  upper  ten 
Won't  start  that  awful  snore  again. 

A  gentle  voice  in  lower  four 
Just  now  said:    " Porter,  close  the  door. 
There  is  a  big  draft  in  this  car — 
Can't  you  feel  it  from  where  you  are?" 

The  porter  turned  and  shook  his  head. 
"No,  I  don't  feel  a  draft,"  he  said. 
He'd  find  it  easy  if  he'd  look 
In  one  side  of  my  pocketbook. 

18 


That  couple  just  made  man  and  wife 
You'd  think  were  married  all  their  life. 
"Have  you  the  grip?"  inquired  the  bride. 
"No;  just  a  cold,"  the  husband  sighed. 

Just  now  I'm  lying  on  my  side, 
But  when  the  train  goes  'round  a  wide 
Curve  somewhere  down  along  the  track 
'Twill  turn  me  over  on  my  back. 

The  name  of  this  car  is  "Wahslumm"; 
At  least  that's  what  it's  called  by  some. 
That  isn't  what  I  called  it,  though, 
When  I  bumped  my  head  a  while  ago. 

The  porter  came  and  took  my  shoes, 
But  they're  so  big  he  couldn't  use 
Them  in  his  business,  so  he  brought 
Them  back  again.     Oh,  happy  thought! 

The  trainman,  much  to  my  surprise, 
Just  flashed  his  lantern  in  my  eyes. 
He  had  me  autograph  my  name 
Upon  my  ticket.     Such  is  fame! 

The  other  folks  are  all  asleep, 

And  through  the  aisle  dark  shadows  creep. 

The  porter  has  turned  out  the  light, 

And,  the  sandman's  here,  at  last.     Good  night. 


14 


TRANSPLANTED 

A  STRANGER  stopped  in  a  country  town. 
He  looked  the  main  street  up  and  down, 
Then  he  said  to  himself :  *  *  I  see  a  chance ; 
The  property  here  will  soon  advance. 
A  good  shop  in  this  town  would  pay — 
I'll  buy  one  and  get  rich,  some  day." 
He  asked  the  butcher  what  he'd  take 
For  his  place,  as  the  butcher  sold  a  steak. 

"I'll  sell  blamed  cheap,"  the  butcher  said. 

"This  town,  for  ages,  has  been  dead; 

For  months  I  haven't  made  a  cent; 

My  profit  I  pay  out  for  rent. 

I'm  losing  money  selling  steer, 

And  gladly  I'd  depart  from  here. 

Hand  over  fifty  plunks  to  me, 

Put  on  my  coat  and  take  the  key." 

The  stranger  bought  the  shop,  I'm  told, 

And  therein  made  a  pot  of  gold. 

The  old  shop-keeper  moved  away, 

And  he  is  getting  rich  today 

In  another  town.     The  pelf 

Oft  comes  when  man  transplants  himself. 

Are  you  the  man  who  stands  within, 

Or  are  you  outside,  just  looking  in? 

15 


NEIGHBORS 

WHEN  we  were  living  in  a  flat 
We  had  our  woes,  I'll  tell  you  that. 
Once  when  our  neighbor  beat  his  wife 
She  slashed  him  with  a  butcher  knife, 
And  when  the  fight  broke  up,  of  course, 
She  promptly  sued  for  a  divorce. 
'Twas  not  a  pleasant  place  to  stay, 
So  we  packed  up  and  moved  away. 

We  bought  a  house  in  Chestnut  Square, 

But  pshaw,  we  didn't  like  it  there. 

One  neighbor  had  a  phonograph; 

Another  kept  a  yearling  calf 

That  pranced  around  the  yard  and  drank 

The  gas  out  of  our  auto  tank. 

When  next  we  nailed  our  carpets  down, 

'Twas  in  another  part  of  town. 

Oh,  now  perhaps  we  were  not  mad 
When  we  found  out  that  twins  they  had 
Across  the  way!    With  all  their  might 
Those  youngsters  whooped  it  up  each  night. 
Next  day  a  tragic  thing  occurred— 
Their  torn  cat  came  and  ate  our  bird, 
And  so  we  stored  our  household  goods 
And  pitched  our  tent  out  in  the  woods. 


We'd  rent  a  house  in  case  we  could 
Find  one  in  some  good  neighborhood, 
But  it  seems  impossible  to  find 
A  set  of  neighbors  who  are  kind. 
And  howe'er  kindly  you  may  act 
They  don't  appreciate  the  fact. 
A  man  told  me  the  other  day 
That  he  was  glad  we  moved  away. 


17 


THE  PLEA  OF  A  PATRON 

WHEN  I  want  to  see  the  pictures,  I  put  on  my 
hat  and  go 
Downtown  to  some  place  where  I  think  they 

have  a  high-class  show. 
Then  I  buy  a  ticket,  and  I  step  inside  the  door  and 

stand 
There  on  the  soft  green  carpet,  with  my  skypiece  in 

my  hand, 
Until    an    usher    comes,    to     guide     my    unfamiliar 

feet 
Down  long,  dark  aisles,  and  lead  me  somewhere  to  a 

vacant  seat; 

But    ere  I  start    to    follow    him,   I  loudly    do    im 
plore 

Him  not  to  seat  me  near  those  who  have  seen  the  films 
before. 

How    often,    oh,    how    often  I  have   gazed    upon   a 

reel 
Of  pictures  that  gave  me  the  sort  of  thrills  I  like  to 

feel, 
And    grown   much   interested  in  the  progress  of  the 

play, 
Only  to  have  some  thoughtless  person,  sitting  near  me, 

say, 

18 


Addressing  a  companion:  "Oh,  I  know  what's  com 
ing  now: 

The  fast  express  speeds  by  and  kills  the  farmer's  Jer 
sey  cow. 

The  farmer  claims  the  cow  was  worth  a  fortune,  and 
he  gets 

Enough  out  of  the  railroad  to  pay  off  all  his 
debts!" 

Whenever   some    one   near  me  gives  the  picture  plot 

away, 
I    promptly    lose    all    interest  and   can't   enjoy  the 

play. 
For  when  the  plot's  unraveled,  and  I  know  what  it's 

about, 
I  feel  as  though  I've  seen  it  all — for  me  the  show  is 

out. 
And   so,   each   time   I   go   to    see   a   picture   show   I 

say: 
"Now,  usher,  put  me  where  there  are  no  big  hats  in  the 

way! 

And,    usher,     gentle    usher,    listen    to    me,     I    im 
plore  ; 
Please  do  not  seat  me  near  those  who  have  seen  the 

show  before!" 


19 


A  VOW 

"X  1C7  TlTH  all  my  worldly  goods  I  thee  endow." 
\A/  One  bridegroom  said,  and  guaranteed  his  vow 
^  *    With  wondrous  wealth,  but  it  did  not  express 
Itself  in  words  that  gave  her  happiness. 
Although  each  heap  of  gold  was  fine  and  pure, 
That  they  lived  happily,  I'm  not  quite  sure. 

"With  all  my  worldly  goods  I  thee  endow," 

Said  one  who  did  not  even  own  a  cow, 

Nor  had  he  steady  work,  but  he  was  brave, 

And  she  knew  how  to  manage  and  to  save. 

His  arms  were  brawny,  and  their  hearts  were  pure; 

That  they  lived  happily,  you  may  be  sure! 


20 


THE  TURNING  POINT 

HE  was  full  of  crazy  notions.  I  once  saw  him  point 
a  gun 
At  a  man  and  then  declare  it  wasn't   loaded, 

just  for  fun. 
I  had  seen  him  light  his  pipe  while  seated  on  a  powder 

keg; 
He   slept   upon  a  railroad   track    one  day  and  lost  a 

leg. 
He  had  done  enough  fool  things  to  prove  that  he  was 

short  on  brain, 

So  us  townfolks  got  together  and  had  him  declared 
insane. 

We  were  all  down  at  the  depot  when  they  hustled  him 
away, 

And  it  happened  that  I  took  a  short  ride  on  the  train 
that  day. 

I  noted  his  behavior,  and  I  heard  the  things  he 
said, 

Feeling  sure  that,  of  all  men,  he  was  the  queerest  in 
the  head, 

But  I  changed  my  mind  about  him,  as  I  sat  there  on 
the  plush, 

His  keeper  wrote  and  mailed  a  letter  marked:  "Im 
portant!  Rush!" 

21 


THE  HORN  OF  PLENTY 

rr^HERE'S  a  glory  in  the  autumn  that  the  summer 
I          does  not  hold, 
•*•     There  is  beauty  in  the  forest  leaf  that  turns  from 

green  to  gold, 
There  is  gladness  in  the  thicket  where  the  chipmunks 

are  at  play, 

But  there  is  no  sweeter  sound  borne  on  the  air,  through 
out  the  day, 
Than  the  sound  that  floats  up  from  the  rustling  fields 

of  golden  corn, 

When  the  big  ears  hit  the  bang-board,  on  a  frosty  au 
tumn  morn. 

The    hired    man    gets    up  at  four,  and  eke  is  on  his 

way 
Out  to  the  distant  field  while  yet  the  eastern  sky  is 

gray, 
And  ere  the  sun  is  high  enough  to  warm  the  chilly 

air, 
The  husker  has  the  golden  ears  heaped  up  to  the  point 

where 
They  show  above  the  wagon  bed  and  promise  him  that 

soon 
He'll  have   as  big   a  load   as  he   can  shovel   off   at 

noon. 

22 


The  farmer  views  his  bursting  cribs  with  wonder-wid 
ened  eye, 

Because  he  knows  of  comforts  that  the  golden  loads 
will  buy. 

He  dreams  of  oil  tractors,  when  he  goes  to  bed  at 
night ; 

His  wife  dreams  of  a  gas  plant  that  will  furnish  heat 
and  light; 

His  daughter  dreams  of  autos  that  she  hopes  to  learn 
to  steer; 

While  his  son  has  visions  of  the  college  he'll  attend 
next  year. 

The  autumn's  full  of  glory.    There  is  gladness  in  the 

air; 
The  corn  cribs  tell  us  that  they  have  enough  and  some 

to  spare. 
The  Horn  of  Plenty  makes  the  sweetest  sound  that 

strikes  the  ear. 
Its    songs    about    Prosperity    are    what    we    like  to 

hear, 
So  we  listen  to  its  music,  while  the  farmer,  husking 

corn, 
Slams    the    ears    against  the  bang-board,  on  a  frosty 

autumn  morn ! 


23 


THE  LURE 

I   LEANED  upon  her  gate  and  sang 
A  song  of  great  devotion, 
Until  the  starry  welkin  rang 
With  my  pent-up  emotion. 
"Till  comes  the  icy  hand  of  death, 

I'd  like  to  have  you  near  me," 
I  sang,  but  'twas  a  waste  of  breath. 
She  didn't  seem  to  hear  me. 

Beneath  her  window  then  I  sat, 

Within  an  ivied  bower. 
With  love-songs  I  informed  her  that 

It  was  a  witching  hour ; 
And  then  I  sang  with  all  my  might, 

To  make  her  coming  certain. 
Whereat  she  rose,  put  out  her  light, 

And  then  pulled  down  the  curtain. 

My  serenading  ended  there, 

For  my  poor  heart  was  bleeding. 
Along  the  darkened  thoroughfare 

A  big  machine  came  speeding. 
It  turned  and  paused  before  her  gate. 

Three  honks  beat  all  my  trying; 
The  fellow  hadn't  long  to  wait, 

For  she  came  out  a-f lying ! 

24 


UNTIL 

AND  in  the  flurry  he  who  once  controlled 
The   world's   supply   and   fixed   the   price    of 
Wheat, 

Was  caught  and  shorn  of  all  his  cherished  gold. 
Head-bowed  with  grief,  he  blindly  left  the  Street 
And  sought  Fifth  Avenue.     No  splendid  car 
Whirled  him  toward  home.    He  made  his  way  as  one 
Into  whose  heart  defeat  had  seared  its  scar, 
For  as  a  power  in  Finance  he  was  done. 

The  newsboys  cried  his  downfall,  penny-glad. 
He  climbed  some  steps,  as  though  led  to  his  doom, 
Then  with  the  little  strength  that  he  still  had, 
He  raised  a  latch,  and  sought  a  drawing-room. 
A  woman  sat  there,  gazing  at  the  fire; 
A  sob  was  in  the  voice  he  tried  to  find; 
As  though  that  end  had  been  her  long  desire, 
She  said:    "I  know  it  all,  dear.    Never  mind." 

The  blood  came,  where  he  bit  his  lips.     Said  he: 
"This  home  is  yours.    I  lost  all  that  I  had." 
She  raised  her  eyes  and  sighed:    "It  seems  to  me 
That  Home  and  what  is  here  might  make  you  glad." 
Impelled  by  love,  two  fine  arms  found  their  way 
Around  his  neck,  and  this  her  sweet  lips  told: 
"My  dear,  until  you  met  defeat  today, 
To  me  all  things  were  lost  except  your  gold!" 

25 


THE  IRRESISTIBLE  IMPULSE 


M 


AN  wants  but  little  here  below, 

And  yet,  he'll  walk  through  sleet  or  snow. 

Or  face  a  dust  storm,  or  a  gale, 

That  he  may  call  to  get  his  mail. 


He'll  walk  a  mile  through  driving  rain, 
To  call  for  mail, — and  home  again; 
He'll  stand  in  line  for  half  a  day, 
Then,  empty-handed,  turn  away. 

Man  wants  his  mail,  in  calm  or  storm ; 
In  weather  cold  or  wet  or  warm. 
A  pity  'tis,  he  knows  no  better — 
We,  who  so  seldom  get  a  letter! 


26 


CONTENTMENT 

WHILE  others  hurry  through  the  crowd 
That  each  day  throngs  the  busy  street, 
And  auto  horns  are  honking  loud, 

In  other  pathways  stray  his  feet. 
He  wanders  through  the  wooded  glen, 

And  loafs  a  while  beside  the  rills. 
He  does  not  care  to  stay  where  men 
And  women  go  the  pace  that  kills. 

While  high-toned  singers  vocalize 

In  thronged  halls  filled  with  stifling  air, 
He  wanders  'neath  the  azure  skies, 

And  gives  the  merry  laugh  t0  care. 
He  hears  the  linnet  sing  a  song, 

And  listens  to  the  purling  brook; 
He  finds,  the  while  he  fares  along, 

Contentment  in  each  shaded  nook. 

While  others  cheer  the  statesman  who 

Makes  promises  he  cannot  keep, 
The  nature  lover  throws  a  few 

Sticks  on  the  fire  and  goes  to  sleep 
Out  in  the  open  where  the  night- 

Bird  has  a  bedtime  tale  to  tell. 
He  manages,  by  living  right, 

To  keep  his  body  strong  and  well. 

27 


For  him  no  daily  round  of  strife; 

He  likes  the  quiet  haunts  the  best. 
Therein  he  leads  the  simple  life, 

And  finds  a  world  of  peace  and  rest. 
He  envies  not  those  who  are  rich, 

He  has  no  lodge,  no  club,  no  church, 
But  he  possesses  that  for  which 

The  most  of  us  are  still  in  search. 


28 


THE  GREATEST  SOURCE  OF  JOY 

^T^HERE'S   rejoicing   in   the   household   when   the 
I          nurse  announces  twins, 
•*•     There  is  tumult  in  the  bleachers  every  time  the 

home  team  wins, 
There  is  gladness  when  a  dividend  is  paid  on  doubtful 

shares, 

And  we  all  laugh  up  our  shirt  sleeves  when  conductors 
miss  our  fares. 

When  we  are  sick  we're  joyous  if  the  boss  don't  dock 

our  pay; 
Our  cup  is  full  whene'er  we  get  "comp"  tickets  to 

the  play; 
But  none  of  those  sensations  equals  that  which  fills 

our  chest 
When  we  find  a  battered  dollar  in  an  old,  discarded 

vest! 


29 


SKELETON  KEYS  TO  HEALTH 

JONES  promises  me  that,  if  I  will 
Of  good,  pure  water  drink  my  fill, 
My  ills  will  vanish  in  a  day, 
And  that,  in  a  short  time  I'll  weigh 
A  great  deal  more.    I'll  not  be  thin, 
And  I  will  have  a  rosy  skin. 
Jones  drinks  a  lot  of  Adam's  ale, 
And  yet  he's  very  thin  and  pale. 

Brown  hits  me  a  resounding  whack, 
And  says :   ' '  Come,  throw  your  shoulders  back. 
If  you  will  practice  breathing  deep 
You'll  soon  get  so  that  you  can  sleep. 
Fresh  air  will  make  you  want  to  eat, 
And  food  will  put  you  on  your  feet." 
But,  while  that  little  speech  he  made, 
Brown  roosted  on  one  shoulder  blade. 

Smith  says:     "I'll  tell  you  what  to  do. 
Of  hearty  meals  eat  only  two 
Each  day.    Just  let  your  stomach  rest 
A  little,  and  you'll  feel  the  best 
You've  ever  felt.     That  hunch  is  pat. 
Take  my  advice,  and  you'll  get  fat." 
Smith  always  has  been  hollow-eyed, 
And  he  don't  dare  to  eat  things  fried. 

30 


THE  WONDER  WORLD 

I    SAW   a   youngster   standing   beside   his   mother's 
knee; 
He  was  playing  with  a  top,  and  was  as  happy  as 

could  be; 
He  had  on  knee-length   trousers,    his  little  feet  were 

bare, 
But   when,   ten   minutes   later,    I    saw   him   standing 

there, 
His  mother  had  grown  older:  she  was  worn,  and  she 

was  gray; 

And  he  was  tall  and   twenty,    so  to  school    he   went 
away. 

I  saw  him    enter    college,    and    could  not  suppress  a 

laugh, 
For  he  graduated  there  in  just  three  minutes  and  a 

half. 
Two  minutes  later  he  had  worked  five  long  years  of 

his  life; 
In   one  more   second  he  had  won  a   rich  girl  for  a 

wife. 
Three  seconds  passed,  and  their  first  son  was  seventeen 

years  old, 
And  in  less  than  half  a  second  their  old  homestead  had 

been  sold. 

31 


I  tarried  in  a  strange    world,    where    time    was  very 

fleet, 
And  life  was  short,  but  none  the  less  enjoyable  and 

sweet. 
There  creeping  infants  lived  long  lives  in  a  quarter  of 

an  hour, 
And     in     a     jiffy     men     acquired     influence     and 

power. 
But  none   of  these  things  happened  in  reality,   you 

know — 
I  saw  them  in  that  wonder-world — the  Motion  Picture 

Show. 


32 


A  QUIET  RETREAT 

I   KNOW  a  quiet  little  place 
To  color  up  your  cheeks. 
You  might  not  see  a  human  face 
Up  there  for  weeks  and  weeks. 
There  are  no  bum  cafes  up  there; 

Your  clothes  need  not  be  pressed, 
And  you  can  loll  beneath  the  trees, 
And  sniff  the  bracing  summer  breeze, 
And  rest,  and  rest,  and  rest. 

Up  there  a  little  brooklet  flows 

Down  through  the  fragrant  wood, 
And  every  time  a  fellow  goes 

Near  it,  it  does  him  good. 
There  are  no  roaring  torrents  there, 

Nor  rapids,  bends  or  curves. 
The  placid  streamlet  glides  along 
And  lisps  a  little  sylvan  song 

That  rests  your  tired  nerves. 

Oh,  you  could  stand  beside  that  brook 

For  days  and  days  and  days, 
And  cast  a  nicely  baited  hook 

Nine  hundred  different  ways, 
But  you  could  not  catch  fish  up  there, 

Because  none  there  abide. 
Last  year  it  was  so  quiet  they 
Got  lonesome.     They  all  went  away, 

But  one,  and  that  one  died. 
33 


THE  WISE  MAN  AND  THE  FOOL 

THE  April  rain  came  drizzling  down.    A  score  of 
men  were  seated 
Within  the  corner  grocery,  where  the  atmosphere 

was  heated 
By   many   a   hot    and   fierce    debate,    for   you   must 

realize 

That  of  this  score  in  argument  each  man  was  wondrous 
wise. 

Affairs  of  State  and  Nation  by  these  men  were  put 

aside 
Quite   suddenly,   however,   when   they   saw   a   fellow 

ride 
Down   through   the    street  astride  a  tall  and  homely 

sorrel  mule. 
"Ho!  Ho!"  cried  Wise  Man  Number  One,  "here  comes 

the  Village  Fool!" 

The  Wise  Man  then  went  on  to  tell  of  things  that  had 

been  said 
Ab©ut  this  callow  youth  who  had  such  emptiness  of 

head, 
And   then    explained   that  he  would  try  a  time-worn 

trick  of  his. 
"I'll  play  it  just  to  show,"  said  he,  "how  ignorant 

he  is." 

34 


In  came  the  Fool.  Quite  tall  was  he  in  height,  and 
rather  spare. 

His  look  was  wan,  his  face  was  blank,  save  for  a 
vacant  stare. 

I  knew  at  once  I  might  expect  to  witness  something 
strange, 

When  Wise  Man  Number  One  drew  forth  a  small  hand 
ful  of  change. 

Then  stretching  forth  his  hand  which  held  a  dollar 

and  a  dime, 
He  said:    "Thou  Fool,  two  coins  are  here.    Which  do 

you  choose  this  time?" 
The  Fool's  face  lighted  with  a  smile  quite  innocent 

and  bland, 
And  then  he  clasped  the  ten  cent  piece  within  a  grimy 

hand. 


The  Wise  Men  all  burst  forth  with  peals  of  laughter 

leud  and  long, 
And  I  myself  was  quite  amused  because  the  Fool  was 

wrong. 
My  astonishment  was  greater  though  when  Wise  Man 

Number  One 
Explained  that  he  had  often  played  the  trick  he  had 

just  done. 


35 


He  told  me  he  had  played  the  trick  at  least  a  hundred 

times, 
And   instead    of    choosing   dollars  that  the  Fool  had 

chosen  dimes, 
"And  so  you  see,"  said  Wise  Man  Number  One,  with 

smiling  phiz, 
"Just  what  a  blooming  Simpleton  and  Empty  Head 

he  is." 

I  marveled  at  it  all  and  when  the  Wise    Men    went 

their  way 
I  touched  the  Fool  upon  the  arm,  requesting  him  to 

stay. 
"Oh!  Fool,"  I  asked,  "whene'er  you  choose  why  don't 

you  take  the  greater?" 
To  which  the  Fool   made   this  reply  to  me  a  second 

later : 

"I   take   the    dimes   in    preference    to    dollars    as    a 

rule, 
For  if  I  knew    the    difference  I'd  no  longer  be   a 

Fool." 
Then  a  wallet  filled  with  silver  he  drew  forth  that  I 

might  see, 
And  it  told  a  different  story  than  the  Wise  Man  told 

to  me. 


36 


VACATION  TIME 

S  a  heap  of  preparation 
Going  on  all  o'er  the  nation; 
•*   There's  to  be  a  separation 

In  the  family,  I  fear. 
I  have  one  sure  way  of  knowing — 
All  the  woman  folk  are  sewing 
Clothes  they'll  wear  where  they  are  going 
In  vacation  time  of  year. 

To  the  lakes  go  Jane  and  Nora; 
To  the  mountains  May  and  Flora; 
Mother  visits  in  Panora 

Every  summer,  and  I  hear 
That  the  boys  are  going  touring. 
Just  at  present  they're  procuring 
Things  they  think  that  they'll  need  during 

The  vacation  time  of  year. 

Yes,  there's  surely  preparation 
Going  on  all  o'er  the  nation; 
There's  to  be  a  separation 

In  the  family,  I  fear. 
Suits  for  Maintenance  have  started; 
Father's  almost  broken-hearted. 
From  his  money  he'll  be  parted 

In  vacation  time  of  year. 

37 


IMPRESSIONS 

I   THOUGHT  her  very  homely  when  she  came  to  me 
and  stood 
Smiling  in  her  girlish  manner,  from  beneath  a 

kitty  hood. 
And  I  clung  to  that  decision  when  we  met  at  pasture 

bars; 
I  stuck  to  that  decision  when  we  strolled  beneath  the 

stars. 
I   thought   her   nose   was   tilted  up   a   trifle   farther 

than 

It    ought    to    be    to    have    her    just    exactly   suit    a 
man. 

Her  face  was  brown  with  freckles,  and  I  thought  they 

marred  her  looks. 
At    any    rate    she    wasn't   like    the    girls   I    saw    in 

books. 
I   didn't   like    her    eyebrows   nor   the    color    of   her 

hair; 
Her  hands  were  short,  but  otherwise  a  very  pretty 

pair. 
I  really  don't   know   what   attracted  me  to  her,  but 

she, 
After  quite  a  long  acquaintance,  grew  more  likeable 

to  me. 

88 


Sometimes  we  wandered  far  afield  on  sunny  summer 

days, 
Sometimes  we  took  a  ride  behind  a  handsome  team  of 

bays. 
Then  she  was  near  me  often,  and  I  liked  to  have  her 

there, 
For  a  pretty  touch  of  autumn  lighted  up  her  eyes  and 

hair. 
I   remember   my   last   vision    of   her    too-much-tilted 

nose — 
'Twas  the  night  I  said  I  loved  her,  and  she  cuddled  to 

me  close. 

The  day  that  we  were  married,  not  a  freckle  was  in 
sight. 

Her  looks  have  since  improved  till  now  she  seems  ex 
actly  right. 

When  baby  came,  this  morning,  Doc  exclaimed,  in  glad 
surprise : 

"  Seems  to  be  most  like  his  mother,  for  he  has  her  nose 
and  eyes;" 

After  which  he  stood  a  moment,  noting  that  I'm  bald 
up  there, 

Then  he  said:  ''But  say!  I  guess  the  Kid  has  got  his 
Daddy's  hair!" 


39 


THE  KICKER 

1MET  him  in  the  road  one  day, 
And  this  is  what  he  had  to  say: 
''My  corn  is  only  half  a  stand, 
And  it  is  all  on  bottom  land. 
In  case  my  fields  should  overflow, 
You  know  where  my  corn  crop  would  go." 
The  rains  that  spring  were  very  light. 
They  didn't  hurt  his  crop  a  mite. 

Again  we  chatted  while  he  hoed 
Spuds  in  a  patch  beside  the  road. 
Said  he:    "The  weather  is  too  warm. 
I  fear  the  heat  will  bring  a  storm. 
Unless  we  get  cool  nights  I  fear 
The  oats  crop  will  be  light  this  year." 
That  fall,  when  he  threshed,  he  sold  oats 
Enough  to  pay  off  all  his  notes. 

When  next  we  met  he  said:    "My  friend, 
Pray  tell  me  when  this  drouth  will  end. 
My  ground  is  parched,  my  crops  are  sick; 
They  must  have  rain  and  have  it  quick." 
That  night  there  came  a  heavy  rain 
Which  saved  his  crops  of  hay  and  grain, 
But  he  was  displeased,  for  he  found 
That  three  young  chickens  had  been  drowned. 

40 


I  used  to  heed  the  kicker's  wail, 
But  now  I  dodge  his  woeful  wail, 
I  have  no  time  to  waste  with  those 
Who  stop  and  lean  upon  their  hoes 
To  tell  me  things  are  going  wrong. 
I  talk  with  men  who  sing  a  song 
The  while  they  till  their  fertile  fields 
And  prophesy  enormous  yields! 


41 


THE  BALM  OF  THE  BLEACHERS 

WHENEVER  life  seems  dull  and  dark 
We  go  out  to  the  baseball  park 
And  sit  upon  the  bleachers, 
Among  the  doctors  and  the  clerks, 
The  bosses  of  the  public  works, 
The  painters  and  the  preachers. 
And  there,  from  vantage  point  on  high, 
We  watch  the  batter  knock  the  fly 
Into  the  distant  garden, 
And  then  we  smash  a  dozen  hats, 
And  if  we  kick  men  in  the  slats 
We  do  not  beg  their  pardon. 

Whene'er  the  pitcher  throws  an  "in" 
And  hits  a  batter  on  the  shin 
We're  very  much  delighted, 
And  if  they  do  not  lynch  the  "ump" 
For  being  such  a  blooming  "chump/' 
We  think  that  we've  been  slighted. 
We  gaze  upon  a  three-base  hit, 
Then  throw  a  neat  conniption  fit, 
And  when  another  daisy 
Goes  sailing  o'er  some  distant  cloud 
We  throw  our  hats  and  yell  so  loud 
The  world  thinks  we  are  crazy. 

42 


Oh,  bless  the  men  who  play  baseball. 

They  furnish  tonic  for  us  all; 

They  make  our  life-blood  tingle. 

When  expert  pitchers  grace  the  box 

It  tickles  us  if  some  man  knocks 

A  modest  little  single. 

And  if  a  batter  hits  a  fly 

That  sails  far  up  into  the  sky, 

We  sing  and  shout  and  bellow. 

When  life  seems  commonplace  and  tame, 

Go  out  and  see  a  baseball  game! 

It's  good  for  any  fellow! 


43 


INTROSPECTION 

I   KEEP  the  family  album  clus  beside  me,  here  uv 
late. 
Them  surgeons  frum  the  city  hez  bin  out  here, 

and  they  state 
That   a    cattyrack   is   growin'    on   each    one   uv   my 

eyes. 
They  seem  like  real  nice   fellers;    they're    accounted 

pretty  wise; 
They  allow  my  eyes  is  just  about  as  bad  as  they  kin 

be, 
Yet  they  think  a  little   cuttin'   would  fix  them  so  I 

could  see 
Good  as  new.     But  operations  cost  an  awful  lot,  they 

say, 

And  we're  just  too  pesky  poor  to  have  them  cut  the 
things  away! 

Yes,  since  them  doctor  chaps  was  out,  I've  kept  the 

album  near. 
You   may   not   understand   it,   but   I   been   a-feelin' 

queer 
Here  lately,  and   a-runnin'   through  the  album,  fer  I 

know 
It   ain't   a-goin'  to  be  a  great   while  till  my   sight '11 

go. 
I    get    a    deal    uv    comfert,    sittin'    in    the    wilier 

chair, 

44 


With  the  old  plush-covered   album   opened  up  at  the 

place  where 
We  had  a  family   picter   down   on   one  of  Sheldon's 

farms, 
And  Pap  was   standin'   up,   a-holdin'   Hattie   in   his 

arms. 

That's  Nettie  in  the  center.    On  that  strand  uv  beaded 

string 
'Round  her  neck,  there,  she's  a-wearin'  her  Aunt  Lib's 

engagement  ring. 
Before  Lib  died  she  give  the  ring  to  our  gal,  fer  she 

said 
'T would  help  the  gal  remember  her  long  after  she  was 

dead. 
Agin    our    gal    growed   up    she    had   a   finger   it'ud 

at, 

And   so,    one   night,    she  put  it  on,  and  got  engaged 

with  it. 
Her  gal — the  one  I'm  keepin' — wears  it  now,  because 

you  know 
Her  mother  couldn't  take  it  with  her  when  she  had 

to  go. 

That's  John,  a-standin'  by  his  Dad.     He  wore  sich 

purty  curls 
When  we  had  this  picter  taken  that  he  looked  jist  like 

the  girls. 


45 


The  years  have  made  a  great  change  in  our  John.  Why, 

I  declare, 
His  head  hez  grown  so  bald,  uv  late,  that  he  ain't  ary 

hair. 
Hat — she  looks  so  tall  and  skinny  in  her  picter  that 

today 
I  don't  allow  you'd  know  her.    Let  me  see — what  does 

she  weigh? 
Well,  I  don't  recall,  just  now,  but  seems  to  me  one  day 

I  guessed, 
And  at  that  her  man  spoke  up  and  said :    ' '  She  weighs 

two  hundred  dressed!" 

Em  disagreed  with  Pap,  once.  Then  she  took  her 
clothes  and  went 

Away.  They  say  her  husband  is  a  railroad  presi 
dent. 

Jim  jined  the  navy  years  ago.  He's  sailin'  on  the 
sea. 

The  children  are  all  scattered,  so  it's  lonesome  here 
for  me. 

Hat  and  her  man  comes  down  and  makes  an  over-Sun 
day  stay 

Sometimes,  but  'taint  no  visit,  'cause  they  hurry  right 
away. 

I  got  right  smart  uv  comfort  from  my  Bible  till  the 
squint 

From  them  cattyracks  annoyed  me  so  I  couldn't  see 
the  print. 

46 


'Bout  all  I  do  these  days  is  sit  and  let  my  dim  eyes 

rest 
Upon  my  younguns  who    have    strayed  far  from  the 

parent  nest. 
I  love  'em  all — God  bless  'em — my  old  eyes  is  failin' 

fast, 
But   even  in  the   darkness  I  will  love    'em  till  the 

last, 
Fer  I  know  that  God  will  want  us,  and  I'm  sure  that 

He  must  be 
Waitin',  out  there  in  the  distance,    with  some  better 

eyes  fer  me. 
And  when  we  all  get  together,  up  there,  far  away  from 

harm, 

We  will  make  a  purtier  picter  than  we  made  on  Shel 
don's  farm! 


47 


14522 


U.C.BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


344051 


UNIVERSITV  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


